


With A Thrill In My Head And A Pill On My Tongue

by b_kolacki



Category: Beyoncé Knowles (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Ukw? im gonna say it i love my babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_kolacki/pseuds/b_kolacki
Summary: It's not that much of a meet-cute is it? However, *I* think it's pretty cute.





	1. When I first saw you

**Author's Note:**

> It's not that much of a meet-cute is it? However, *I* think it's pretty cute.

When Beyoncé was thirteen living in a tiny one bedroom apartment with her grandmother, parents and sister she would sit in school and daydream about living in a mansion with hundreds of bedrooms and she would have her very own personal bathroom that no one else could enter, especially not her funky smelling father. When she was in highschool doing beauty pageants and talent shows for extra cash, her daydreams involved her becoming Miss America and eventually Miss World. 

 None of those things came to fruition and now she had dropped out of college and moved miles away from home and every day at work while she helped wealthy people pick out clothes, she would let her mind wander to possibility of having her own clothing line or just having her own business. Honestly, she wasn’t too sure what she wanted to do; it just had to be special and better than what she was doing now.

 She finished ringing up what felt like her thousandth customer and her coworker Lisa tapped her on her shoulder, wearing a too-bright-to-be-genuine smile.

 “How would you like to have the time of your life tonight, girly?”

 Beyoncé considered herself a very intuitive person, she found that she had a tendency to either over think or just act on a whim and it always helped to have her gut to depend on. Not that she listened most of the time, but at least she could pinpoint where she went wrong and she liked to think she had a little more sense than others.

 She lost count of inventory she was taking,“No.”

 Her smile faltered, “Come on, you don't even know what you're saying no to.”

 “What am I saying no to?”

 Lisa was adjusting clothes on their hangers,“Remember the really cute tall guy that comes in all the time?”

 “Big ears?”

 “Big wallet,”she corrected,“ and you're one to talk but yes.”

“What about him?”

 “He invited me to a party and I was thinking that you’d come and kind of look out for me ‘cause I don’t know those people.”

 “That doesn’t tell me what kind of party it is.”

 “A rich people one.”

 “And you have something to wear to a rich people party?”

 “We could just borrow a couple of outfits from here.” She gestured at the racks of clothing surrounding them.

 “I’m positive that’s stealing.”

 “We’d be bringing it back though, so, not exactly.”

 “Still theft and why do you want me to go, it sounds like he only invited you.”

 Lisa put on her best puppy dog eyes, “I have no other friends, Bey. Well, I do but you’re the most responsible one.”

 “You’ve known me a month.”

“And I already trust you with my life, look, I promise you, if you come to this party with me tonight, you will have so much fun.”

 “Where is it?”

 Lisa pulled a receipt from her pocket, an address was scribbled on the back,“SoHo and you told me you wanted to go there someday.”

 “Yeah, during the day.”

 “Does it matter?”

 “Yes!”

 “Bey, I already told him you were coming. Don’t make me look like a liar.”

 “No.”

“Please? You could even bring Au-”

 “I don't want him to go.”

“Well, you should. I need you to.”

 Beyoncé thought for a minute, she didn't really want to go home and if something happened to Lisa, she'd feel bad. Her gut said to exit with caution and so Beyoncé threw caution to the wind.

 She let out a long throaty groan,“Fine.”

 Lisa swiped a short grey dress for herself and for Beyoncé; a short-sleeved, black, semi form fitting Versace dress that barely reached past her thighs. A thick black and gold belt was wrapped around her waist and she finished it off with over the knee boots. It was the most expensive thing Beyoncé had ever worn, she knew she'd be bummed when she returned it the next day.

 She turned in the mirror for the fifth time,“How come I get the fancy outfit?”

 “Cause I look better and you'd get in more trouble so I know you'll be careful.”

 “Why do I gotta be the insurance?”

 She took Beyoncé’s face in her hands, “Because you're my precious cargo. Now, shut up and wear it.”

 They headed back to her place in Flushing where Lisa’s mother did their hair and makeup, straightening Lisa’s hair and loosely curling Beyoncé’s.

 Soon enough, they were taking the train to SoHo and Beyoncé felt sure that coming along with Lisa was a good decision. If not because of the strangers at the party, then definitely because of the creeps on the subway.

 Beyoncé leaned in close, avoiding eye contact with the funny looking man across from them who kept sneaking glances their way, “If this guy is so rich and polite how come we're taking the bus?”

 Lisa mumbled into her ear, keeping an eye on the increasingly-more-creepy- than funny looking man, “He was going to send a car but I didn't want him thinking I was needy or nothing so I said no.”

 “Lisa, what the fuck?” She wanted to pull away but it was unusually cold on the train and she was skimpily dressed.

 “In hindsight, I see that was foolish but I don't wanna come off as a moocher.”

 “Aren’t you planning to mooch off of him?”

 “Yes, but I don't wanna look it.”

 Beyoncé could sort of understand that and she didn't feel like arguing especially since the man across from them had begun to openly stare.

They hooked arms and held each other extra tight even when they got off and took a cab up to the address on the receipt. It turned out to be one of those fancy ass lounges you had to be on the list to get into and that made Beyoncé feel special.

 House music was rumbling from the speakers and everyone inside seemed to be buzzing with the need to cut loose. There were people dancing on tables and losing their constricting clothing. Others taking shots and growing louder with each one. Lisa craned her neck looking for her date and Beyoncé attempted to remember what he looked like.

 “Why don't you just ask around? Someone's had to have seen him.”

 Lisa snorted, “Funny story, I didn't get his name.”

 Beyoncé stopped walking, “Lisa, you made me get dressed and come out here, late as hell, to an address on the back of a fucking receipt to meet a guy who's name you don't even know?”

 “It didn't come up!”

 “What exactly did you two talk about?”

 Lisa groaned as if Beyoncé was the one getting on her nerves right now, “He came in and I was like ‘hi, how are you welcome to Barney’s how may I assist you?’ and he goes, ‘How about your name and this watch’. Sidebar: it was expensive as fuck and I know he had to be legit because he didn't even look at the price, like he just handed over a wad of cash.”

 “He paid in cash again?”

 “Sexy, right?”

 “No, that's fucking weird, but you were saying? I’ll stop judging.”

 “Right, so I’m like ‘ _hahaha_ I'm Lisa,’ and he was like ‘Lisa that's a beautiful name, is that short for something?’ and I say, ‘Alisa.’ and he-”

 “But your name isn't Alisa.”

 “It sounded more sophisticated, damn.”

 “Adding an A to your name doesn't make it more sophisticated.”

 “You're one to talk with your fake french bullshit ass name; what the fuck is a ‘Beyoncé’?”

 “It's creole and it’s derivative of my mother's maiden name.”

 “Can I finish my story, please?”

 Beyoncé threw her hands up and Lisa went on.

 “He goes, ‘so Alisa a friend of mine is having a little get together and I think we could use a beauty such as yourself in the room.’ and I'm like ‘fuck’ but I don't say it, I just ask if I can bring a friend because I don't just go with strangers and he was like, ‘I don't intend to be a stranger.’ and then he wrote the address down on the fucking watch receipt-didn't even glance at it-, rolled out and you know the rest.”

 “That was incredibly long winded.”

 “I tried.”

 A hand brushed against Beyoncé’s back and she jumped causing Lisa to look over, almost immediately her entire demeanor changed. She was no longer loudmouth, ballsy, Queens girl, she was sweet and demure. She even stood differently, pushing Beyoncé out of the way to hug the sort of lanky man that invited her.

 “Hey you,” She dragged out the vowels remembering she didn't know his name.

 “Beautiful, you made it,” He embraced her as if she was an old friend and held his hand out to Beyoncé for shaking, “I'm Majid.”

 She shook it politely and felt somewhat intimidated, “Beyoncé.”

 Looking at him up close, Beyoncé understood why Lisa was being so irresponsible and silly for him. The first thing she noticed was just how big he was, Lisa was nearing 5’10 and next to him she looked small. He was on the leaner side but he still managed to have a soft face. She thought his cheeks were especially cute. Full lips and eyebrows, he was definitely gorgeous.

 She realized she'd been holding onto his hand and staring for an embarrassingly long time and let go.

 “Cold hands.”

 “Sorry,” she huffed out air feeling a lot like a teenager, “I've seen you in the store.”

 “I don't think I've ever seen you before, you must be in the back, huh?”

 “No, not real-”

 “You have the nicest Barney’s I've ever been into. A+ customer service. Every single time.”

 “Well, it's not ‘my’ Barney’s I just work there.”

 “You do? I've never seen you around, you must work in the back.”

 Beyoncé looked at Lisa to confirm that this conversation had already happened only seconds ago and she just shrugged, Majid’s hand had moved to rest on the curve of her ass.

 When Beyoncé didn't say anything he continued, “What's your name by the way?”

 “I'm Beyoncé, I just said that.”

 “Nice, I'm Majid,” he looked down at the girl on his arm, “and you're Alisa.”

 She laughed and they shared a look and he whispered something in her ear. She laughed again and he started feeling her up before she told Beyoncé to wait for her by the bar.

 Gladly. She was beginning to feel like a third wheel.

 It was quieter and more relaxed over where she was, people were sitting at different tables eating food Beyoncé knew she couldn’t afford.

 She spotted Lisa and Majid out on the dance floor and watched them dance on each other and take breaks to make out before the bartender broke her attention, telling her she couldn't sit at the bar without ordering anything.

 “That vodka with peach juice in it,” she ordered as if she had any way to pay for it. The bartender seemed a little offended by how simple she made making that drink sound but she pretended not to notice.

 Someone took a seat next to her and her intuition told her not to look their way and she listened for awhile; the only thing was that her gut telling her not to look made her really want to look and then soon she was forcing herself not to look over.

 The bartender slid over drink and she took that as her chance to take a little glance at the person next to her. He was cute. Chubby cheeks, dark brown hair with fringe that had been parted down the middle and pushed up out of his face, although a few strands still managed to escape, leading to full eyebrows and blueish-green eyes that were slightly downturned. Eyes that met hers as soon as she had looked over as if he’d been staring at her the whole time. He was very cute. Beyoncé realized taking a little glance wouldn’t allow her to analyze this man’s face the way she just had and that she too had been staring. She wanted to apologize or say something coy, she instead snorted and made a gurgling noise around her straw and turned back around.

 Now, she could feel him watching her and she refused to look his way. She felt warm from the vodka and from embarrassment, she heard him laugh quietly and she felt even sillier.

 She was plotting an exit strategy when she heard him speak, “You know you’re allowed to look at me, right?”

 She jumped, his voice was deeper than she had imagined, “I know.”

 “Then why are you going out of your way to not look at me?”

 She scoffed, “I’m not going out of my way to do anything. I’m just not looking at you.”

 “Then look at me.”

 “No, fuck off.”

 “What did I do?”

 “You’re assuming I care enough about you to purposely not look at you and I don’t.”

He was amused,“Okay, I believe you.”

 “It doesn’t sound like it.”

 “Because I don’t.”

 “Well, then...you’re a fool.”

 “A fool?”

 “Yes.”

 “You still won’t look at me.”

 “I don’t have to look at you to tell you that you’re an absolute fooligan.”

 She heard him snort, “I was looking at you, I still am, and I think you’re beautiful.”

 She turned to face him, stuck a finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.

 He was full blown grinning, “It got you to look.”

 She rolled her eyes and took  a sip of her drink.

 “So we’ve stopped talking?”

She shrugged.

 “I must make you feel really shy.”

 He did. “You don’t.”

 “Are you sure?”

 She suppressed a laugh, “You make me a little nervous.”

 “In a bad way?”

 She shrugged,“You seem like a troublemaker.”

 He squinted and made a show of leaning back in his seat, _“Pfft_ , I'm a play by the rules guy.”

 “What's a play by the rules guy doing out this late on a weekday?”

 He shook his head, Beyoncé noticed a tiny platinum hoop in his ear, “This is business.”

 “Sure it is.”

 “I mean it. Me and my business partner are taking this big client of ours out on the town, showing him a good time.”

 She thought he was full of shit, “Okay, where exactly do you work?”

 He blinked. She waited for a response. She didn't get one.

 “What are you, stuck?

 He leaned closer, “You really don't know me?”

 “Have I met you before or something?”

 “I'm Jordan Ullman.”

 “And I don't know who that is, sorry.”

 “You read magazines?”

 “Sometimes.”

 “You watch tv?”

 “Tv makes you stupid.”

 “You think so?”

 “No, I just don't have cable.”

 He let out a laugh that seemed to travel through his whole body. She liked that; it made her feel funny.

 “Okay, Jordan Ullman, who are you and what do you do?”

 “I'm a lot of things.” He waved his fingers, as if for magical effect.

“Can I guess?”

 “Shoot.”

 “I need some hints.”

 “Of course.”

 “Are you wealthy?”

 He half-heartedly hid a smile, “You could say that.”

 “And you mentioned tv and magazines so you gotta be kinda famous but I haven't heard of you, so, you can't be that famous,” She eyed him, partially to study his body language and just because she thought he was cute.

“That's rude.” 

 Oh, and you're sensitive too.”

 He snorted, “Any guesses?”

 She remembered him mentioning clients, “Are you some kind of manager to the stars?”

“Nope.”

 “Businessman.” She blurted, oddly proud of herself.

 “You can't just say businessman. What kind of businessman?”

 “Am I on the money?”

 “Close, keep thinking.”

 She rested her chin on her palm, using the bar for support, “Stockbroker?”

 "Used to be.”

 “That's not helpful.”

 “It is actually.”

 She bit her lip and hummed, thinking harder, “You're some kind of investor.”

 He gave her a thumbs up, “And?”

 “There's more?” 

 “I told you, I'm a lot of things.”

 “Writer, mathematician, plumber, politician, lover, fighter, fighter pilot.”

 “Sex machine.”

 The laugh that slipped from her was loud and obnoxious and sounded more duck than human. Jordan seemed endeared.

 “You're so cute.”

 She ignored him despite her skin turning pink and warm, “What do you do?”

 “I'll buy businesses and turn them around for profit, that's it.”

 “You don't break ‘em into little pieces and then sell it off?”

 “Where’d you get that from?”

 “Pretty Woman.”

 “You're funny, you know that?” She wasn't even trying that time.

 “So this client? Why bring him out here?”

 He sighed, “I'm invested in his business and it's a pretty small investment but it's a real fruitful business but this guy, eventually, might wanna sell it and I really wanna be the guy he sells it to.”

 “So like a bribe?”

 He nearly flinched,“No, I'm just sucking up a little bit.”

 “Well, where is he?”

 “Off somewhere fooling around with some really generous girls, probably. Or stressing out some poor waiter.”

 “I hope you're leaving good tips.”

 “I'm paying them in general.”

 “What does that mean?”

 “This place is mine.”

 She straightened in her chair and looked around in disbelief, “No shit?”

 “No shit.”

 “Prove it.”

 He got up and went over to the nearest table and brought back a card, placing it in front of her and standing right behind her. His chest pressing into her back.

 “See that number?”

 She swallowed hard and nodded.

 “Call it.”

 “I don't have a cellphone.”

 He called for the bartender and said something in his ear Beyoncé couldn't make out and then moments later a telephone was sitting in front of her.

 She dialed the number, feeling nervous for some reason.

 “What am I even supposed to say?”

 “Complain.”

 “Someone could get fired.”

 “Nobody's getting fired.”

 The line stopped ringing and someone picked up asking  how they could assist her.

 She drew a blank, “I...am filing a complaint.”

 Jordan found that hilarious, “Filing a complaint? You're not in court.”

 “And what is your complaint, ma’am?”

 Beyoncé improvised, “There was a hair in my food.”

 Jordan groaned,“You're too sweet for this.”

 She swatted behind herself, aiming for his arm, “Shut up.”

 The woman on the line thought Beyoncé meant her and grew agitated, “Excuse me, I'm trying to help you out. There's no need to be nasty.”

 Beyoncé gasped playfully at Jordan who seemed to get a kick out of it.

 “I don't think I like your attitude, I wanna speak to the manager.”

 “Ma’am I do-”

 Beyoncé raised her voice an octave,“I want the manager.”                                        

 She got transferred to yet another representative who transferred her to the manager and after demanding the corporate number she dialed it and waited.

 Jordan was resting his head on her shoulder, “You're amazingly dedicated to this.”

 “I'm dedicated to catching you in this lie.”

 “Sure.”

 She got to a automated voicemail, “They ain't there.”

He reached over her again and pushed in a quick combination of numbers too short to be an actual phone number. The phone started dialing again and she heard ringing behind her.

 Jordan flipped open his cell phone and answered.

 “I heard you wanted to file a complaint.”

 She hung up. “Holy shit.”

 He sat back down next to her.

 “What do you do?”

 She hummed and took another sip of her drink, “I’m in business too.”

 His brows raised,“Oh really?”

 “Really.”

 “What do you you, businesswoman?”

 “I am a "sales associate at Barney’s.”

 “Wow.”

 “I'm the best.”

 “Oh, I believe you. I'd buy something from you right now.”

 They laughed and Beyoncé noticed just how close they were sitting. They were edging off the sides of their seats, touching knees. Every time she looked up at him he seemed to be looking right at her. He wasn't modest in doing so either. She realized then why she wasn't supposed to look over. He made her uncomfortable in a weird way. Majid was intimidating but she knew she could never go anywhere with him due to her own insecurities. She'd feel like she was under a microscope. Jordan, despite actually having the watchful eye, she felt too comfortable, she liked his company a little too much and she didn't trust herself around him.

 “Don't get mad at me asking but where's your boyfriend?”

 “I don't have one.” She rationalized to herself that it wasn't a complete lie.

 He rubbed at his bottom lip with his thumb while his other hand came to rest over hers and she allowed it.

 “You wanna get out of here and see where I work?”

 It felt like a disservice to herself if she didn't say yes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Let It All Work Out

They were halfway out the door when Beyoncé stopped, “I have to tell my friend I'm going.”

Jordan nodded, “Where is she?”

Beyoncé thought for a second and realized she didn't know where Lisa was, and immediately started to panic, “Oh God, I let her go off with this weird guy and he could've dragged her off anywhere by now. I was supposed to watch her and now she's dead because I was too busy talking to you to hear her cries for help.”

He looked genuinely concerned, “What's your name?”

Amidst her panic, it hit her that she almost left with a man who didn't even know her name.

“I have to find my friend.”

“Do you remember what the guy looked like?”

She wondered briefly how he would rectify the situation, he seemed to gentle to fist fight someone, “He was tall and he was dressed pretty nice and he had big ears,” she paused in disbelief when Jordan started laughing.

“Is there a joke somewhere that I’m missing?”

He straightens out, “I know who you’re talking about.”

“Who?”

“You're gonna laugh I promise.

He started  pulling her to a door marked employees only then, waved over the nearest waiter, got him to unlock it and stepped inside with Beyoncé in tow. 

She looked around and her eyes landed on Lisa in the corner straddling Majid, not in any apparent danger. Jordan nudged her. “Safe and sound.”

Majid noticed her first, removing his face from Lisa’s cleavage, “There you are.”

Lisa turned around, a goofy smile plastered on her face, “Where have you been?”

“You’re the one who ran off.”

Majid looked unusually happy to see her and Jordan together, “It’s you!”

“It’s me.”

“Aw, you found us.”

Beyoncé nodded feeling a little like she was talking to a child.

“And you found J-naughty.”

“J-naughty?” Her eyes were wide with amusement.

Jordan bashfully rolled his eyes, “Ignore him.”

“Don’t be shy, bro. If you’re gonna be together she’ll find out what it means eventually.”

Jordan threw a look that Beyoncé couldn’t quite read at Majid, “We’re just getting to know each other, Maj.”

“That’s not what you said when you saw her c-”

“Bro, chill out.”

Beyoncé was  curious to hear the rest of that sentence,“What did he say?”

“He saw you come in and he said you were gorgeous.”

Jordan cut in, “In a respectful way-”

“And then he said you had a fat ass.”

“That’s not...what I said. I said your ass looked nice in your dress.”

“Same difference though.”

Beyoncé nodded in agreement, “That's like the same thing.”

Majid took back notice of Lisa on his lap and jabbed at Jordan with his elbow.

“We can be like a foursome.”

Lisa snorted, “It can’t be anything like that Bey has a-”

Beyoncé almost went and threw herself at Lisa to shut her up, “ _ Actually _ , it's cool.”

“Oh,” Lisa's eyes widened, “Oh, Bey, can I talk to you?”

She made her way over and pulled Beyoncé out of the back room, “Are you about to cheat on your boyfriend?”

“Lisa, I have morals.”

“Do you? Because that guy is, like, all over you and you're not sending out ‘just friend’ vibes right now.”

“I'm not even doing anything and you don't know me well enough to know my ‘just friend’ vibes.”

“I know well enough when someone is trying to get laid and you're trying to get fucked silly by this man.”

“I promise you that's the last thing I want.”

She stared at Beyoncé, unblinking and in return she got increasingly uncomfortable attempts at reassuring smiles.

“Okay well, what'd you come cock block me for?”

“Jordan's taking me to his office. It's right up the street.”

“I could smack you right now.”

Beyoncé kissed her teeth feeling like a scolded teenager, “What?” She dragged out the vowel sound.

“What the hell do you need to go to his office for?”

She couldn’t think of a good reason yet, “He’s gonna show me around that’s all.”

“I bet he is.”

“I'm not gonna do anything, I'm responsible. I was just checking to see if  _ you'd _ be safe.”

“You think I’m safe?”

“You seem pretty safe.”

“I just want you to know that nobody in history has ever left their friend at the club to go with a guy somewhere not to get fucked silly.”

“I'm not getting fucked!”

“You're trying to.”

“Are you done?”

“No, why did you stop me from telling him you had a whole ass boyfriend?”

Beyoncé had to think for a minute, she had no real reason for it that didn’t make her sound guilty. 

“I wanted to be the one to tell him.”

“Because you want him to fuck you silly first.”

“I'm just getting to know a potential friend.”

“That's gonna fuck you silly.”

“Can you stop?”

“You better stop, or else he's gonna-”

“Fuck me silly, I got it.”

It was colder outside when Beyoncé and Jordan started their journey up the street. Jordan had lent her his coat and she was clinging to his arm while silently assuring herself that it didn’t mean anything.

“I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

“If this client’s so important how come you’re just leaving him there.”

“Majid’s got him.”

“Majid seemed a little preoccupied.”

“He’s a great multi-tasker.”

“Okay, another question?”

“Nope, it’s my turn.”

“I didn’t know we were taking turns.”

“It'll be fun.”

“Sure, okay, ask your question.”

"Your name? You never told me.”

“Guess.”

“Your friend called you ‘B’.

“You think that's your hint?”

“I hear people from New York call each other ‘B’ all the time.”

“I think that's in Brooklyn.”

“Is your friend from Brooklyn?”

“Lisa’s from Queens.”

“That's where you live?”

“That's two questions but no, I live in Jersey.”

“Then my hint is that it starts with ‘B’.”

“Correct.”

His nose crinkled both because he was thinking and because the wind was hitting him in the face,“Is it long?”

“I don't think so.”

“How many syllables?”

“Three.”

“Bianca.”

“That's everyone's first guess but, no, sorry.”

“Brianna?” He was awfully adorable when he was trying to figure things out.

“That's not it.”

“Biloxi.”

“Like Mississippi? That's a new one.”

“You sound like you're from the south.”

“I'm from Houston.”

“I own a few places there, it's great.”

“Did you just stealth-brag about your business in mid-conversation?”

He laughed sheepishly,“My bad.”

She laughed, pushing him by the shoulder,“That was so obnoxious.”

“I'll work on it but can you tell me your name first?”

“You give up?”

“I don't like that wording.”

“You surrender?”

He dragged out a sigh, “Have mercy and tell me.”

“You're gonna be so mad. It's Beyoncé.”

“What the fuck is that?”

She stopped in her tracks, “It's my name, asshole.”

He rushed to make himself clear, “I didn't mean it that way. I just would've never guessed it.”

“Sure.”

“It's beautiful.”

She eyed him and slowly started back walking.

“I really like your name, Beyoncé.”

“It's my mother's maiden name. She’s creole.”

“That makes it even better. I'm pretty sure my parents got mine from a map.”

“Maybe the bible.”

His voice took an annoyed edge,“Knowing my parents, most likely a map.”

“Is it my turn?”

“Sure is.”

“I wanna know how a guy who looks as young as you got his own successful company?”

“ _ Companies, _ and how old do you think I am?”

“Like 25.”

“I look that old?”

“No, but I'm trying to guess believably.”

They made it to a ridiculously tall building and he unlocked and held open a glass door, clearly getting a kick out od the awestruck look on her face,“23.”

She stepped inside and whipped back around to face him, “No way. How the fuck does a twenty-three year old get all this?”

“It was my father’s.”

She wandered around the spacious lobby,“And he just gave it to you?”

“I didn't want it and because he goes out of his way to spite me, he insisted that I take over.”

“Well, what is he doing now?”

“Pretending to be retired.”

“How do you pretend to be retired?”

“He’s retired but he still shows up and calls like every day, undermining me.”

“Must be frustrating.”

“It is.”

He pressed the button on the elevator and gestured for her to go in first when the doors opened.

She leaned against the cold mirrored wall and he came and stood next to her at a distance that was too close to be friendly. Her voice was quiet, fuck, he was hard to look at for too long,“It’s your turn.”

“Do you like your job? As a businesswoman at Barneys.” He said the last bit with a chuckle and she felt his hand inch closer to hers on the cool metal handlebar in the elevator.

She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze head on, she fixated on the weird pattern on the carpet, ignored the way she could feel him staring at her,“It helps to pay the bills I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah.”

“How much do you make an hour?”

“Why?”

“Just tell me.”

“$12.83.”

He huffed and blew out a low airy whistle, “Right down to the change, wow.”

“It counts but why do you ask?”

“I'm thinking about something. Would you say you're an organized person?”

There was a hesitant beat of silence before she decided to answer,“Yeah, I'm pretty organized.”

“How's your memory?”

“Like an elephant.” She thought it would be funny when she said it, he gave a slight laugh, not like the one she got back at the bar where he buckled over and his knee lifted near his chest because he couldn't contain his joy.  She missed that laugh.

“Do you consider yourself a people person?”

She could put two and two together,“Who says I want to work for you?”

“No one. I just thought it'd be good for you.”

She could look at him now, only because she sensed she was being insulted and it didn't matter who you were; no one was going to put her down without getting a rude awakening.

She was too self assured, it was apparent in her tone of voice, “Why do you say that?”

“You see yourself working there in ten years?”

“No, but I don’t see myself working for you in ten years either.”

“I could be a stepping stone.”

“To be someone else’s assistant,” She rolled her eyes, “Nice.”

“I look great on a resume.”

"I forgot you’re supposed to be a big deal.”

“Depends on who you ask I guess.”

Her mouth tugged into a smile, “Who should I ask then?”

“Anyone who’s ever met me, or heard about me, or anyone who just doesn’t live under a rock like you do.”

“So in other words…”

“I’m a pretty fuckin’ huge deal.”

“Why does it feel like you’re kind of upset that I don’t know you?”

The elevator dinged and it slowed to a stop before the doors parted, he let her take the first few steps out before  coming up close behind her, “Not upset, it’s just humbling.”

He placed his hands on her hips and used them to guide her over towards his office.

“Yeah? Not humbling enough you’ve got a big head.”

She wondered what the limit for physical contact was before it was before it crossed into cheating territory.

“Beyoncé, are you usually this mean?”

“I think I'm really nice. You’re just used to getting your dick sucked.”

“I'm partial to it.”

He stopped in front of a wooden door and released one of her hips to dig in his pocket and retrieve his keys once again. As soon as the door was open, the perfect, suave, sophisticated image of Jordan Beyoncé had conjured up collapsed on itself to the sound off key brass section. It was a fucking pigsty.

He pushed a box full of files off the couch, “Sit.”

She eased uncomfortably onto the leather cushion while he plopped in his desk chair and kicked his feet up on the desk, knocking things over that he didn't even look to pick up.

She took a deep breath, it smelled like cigarettes and something else she couldn't put her finger on,“You've got a lot of nerve asking me about my organization skills when your office looks like this.”

“It's organized.”

Her voice jumped up an octave,“How?”

“I know where shit is.”

“Are we in the same room? You know the tasmanian devil on looney toons? Someone set him loose in your office.”

He snorted, “It's not this bad all the time. I was looking for something today.”

“Did you find it?”

He shrugged in an annoyingly smug way, “Yeah I found it because I know where everything is.”

“If you knew where it was why'd you have look so hard for it?”

“ _ Look _ , it's navigable.”

“Okay then, could you find me a rubber band? I wanna put my hair up.”

His feet dropped down to the floor and he pushed himself up from his chair, grabbing his keys. “I'll do you one better, an actual hair tie.”

“You're not gonna let me waste your office supplies?”

He breezed past her, brushing  his fingertips against her thigh in passing, “Don't like you that much.”

She watched him leave the room and heard the sound of his footsteps grow distant, she exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. Now that she was alone she could assess the situation properly, with no distractions or influence. She started by reminding herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong, she'd been astonishingly responsible and level headed. She just felt a little weird, like a strange coiling feeling in her stomach and tingling in her fingers. That could all be chalked up to nerves. Nerves that came from meeting new people and even though she didn't quite feel this way when she met Lisa, for instance, Lisa wasn't a CEO and, Beyoncé had been drinking; those were completely sensible reasons for her to feel that way.

She realized she was sitting up eerily straight and tried to relax somewhat but even that felt rigid. It was most likely because of the clutter surrounding her and she decided that if she did take that job she was gonna make this man clean up first thing.

He came jogging into the room looking extremely proud of himself, a white scrunchie secured around his wrist. She gingerly held his hand while she slipped it off. She didn't need to, he had a steady arm, she just wanted to know what it'd feel like to hold his hand. Just once. In a platonic way.

“Where did this even come from?” She was still holding onto his hand and he began to rub circles into hers with his thumb.

“Majid.”

He started swinging her hand back and forth and loosened his grip the slightest bit. It bothered her that she noticed and that he did it because she had really holdable hands.

“And where did he get it from?”

“He gets a lot of visitors that leave things behind all the time and he keeps em in a box.”

He let go of her hand completely and then moved to sit on the arm of the couch, taking the hair tie from her.

“Let me do it.”

She had some semblance of conscience but she was finding it extremely hard to pay attention to it at the moment. This wasn't cheating. Her arms were pretty tired. “Sure.”

He gathered the hair at the nape of her neck and then from the front and sides. It felt strangely intimate and she wondered if he could feel how warm her skin had become.

“You have big ears.”

Strange relief flushed through her and she laughed just a bit too loud, “Fuck, I know,” she breathed out before dissolving back into giggles.

He doubled the scrunchie and started fixing loose pieces as if it mattered to her how it looked.

“They're like wings.”

“I got called dumbo in school.”

“That's just mean, I would've never said that to you.”

She snorted, “How heroic.”

“I’d defend you sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“I'd be busy fighting my own battles.”

“Over what?”

He put his hand on her forehead and pushed until she was looking up at him. “One lip.”

She pushed his hand off and turned to look at him, his top lip was thinner than the bottom.

“Oh, it is pretty small.”

He faked hurt, “Not all of us can laugh at our scars, Bey.”

“I think it's cute.”

She reached and ran her thumb across his lips. “You know who else has a really small top lip?”

“Who?”

“Dumbo. His trunk was in the way.”

“We're both Dumbo?”

“We're elephants in general I think.”

“It's nicer when you say it that way. We're like two elephants holding tails.”

“You made it weird.”

He laughed and linked his finger with hers. “What else did you get picked on for?”

“Why do you assume I got picked on for something else?”

“Ears would get boring.”

“I have a long neck.”

He trailed his knuckle from her collarbone up to her chin and back. It tickled.

“They had to be jealous. It's a great neck.”

“You're an authority on necks?”

“Yeah, look how sturdy mine is.”

“Did you get picked on for it?”

“No, just my lisp.”

She pretended she didn't hear it,“I didn't even notice.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“It's like super endearing.”

“I know, women love it.”

She nearly frowned realizing she was one of those women.

“So about your friend?”

“Majid?”

“He  _ really _ works for you?”

“You sound surprised.”

“He seems pretty spaced out.”

He let out a low chuckle, “He's not like that all the time.”

“What's he usually like?”

He thought about it, “Pretty much the same, now that I think about it but you get used to it.”

“He's really friendly. I thought you New York business people were supposed to be grumpy.”

“Aren't I nice?”

She tread lightly not wanting to offend him by insulting his friend but still being curious.

“But he's like extremely nice.”

“Majid’s weird like that.”

“How does he get any work done?”

“He's...functional.”

“Are you ever that weird like that? Sometimes?”

He stretched onto the back of the couch, propping his head up on his bent arm and she moved another box to the floor so she could lay out too. It briefly crossed her mind that if he wanted to he could drop his head down and kiss her. For instance, if he was to lose his balance and fall on top of her, it wouldn't be cheating if she was to help him break his fall and if their lips touched because of that then it's purely dumb luck-or misfortune; but that wouldn't happen, he was too safe against the stupid ass wall.

She was beginning to think he was ignoring her question and opened her mouth, fixing to ask again but he spoke first.

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

She wasn't even being that nosy right now. “I just wanna know who I'm alone with.”

“Fair enough.”

She pressed to get back on subject,“What does it depend on?”

“You're not like some anti-drug D.A.R.E person are you?”

“I do have a t-shirt but no.”

“Then that's it.”

Beyoncé understood that it was rude and unfair to project fantasies onto people. Jordan was a human being with hobbies and dreams, a fully fleshed out person but, GOD, he had an earring and he had the fucking Uncle Jesse haircut. Season six Uncle Jesse. Uncle Jesse with the JTT haircut. She wouldn't be surprised if he owned a motorcycle and now he did drugs? That's against the law. He's a lawbreaker. He was all of her high school Grease fueled fantasies rolled into one and he was rich too.

She'd be weird to not, at least, imagine him driving her out of town in his old Chevy Malibu (or some other car a sexy lawbreaking man would drive) to like, the hillside, watching the sunset with her, sitting on the roof of his car, then he’d get a handsy. She blushingly deny him. He'd smooth her over with words. She'd gingerly place her hand over his and then move it between her thighs. They'd kiss and she'd run her fingers through his Season Six Uncle Jesse with The JTT Haircut hair. She could almost rub one out right then. Almost, she was in his office and she'd been staring. Lustfully.

She swallowed despite her dry feeling mouth, “I wanna try.”

He threw her an amused look, “Why?”

Because in her fantasy world, her wealthy ruffian man popped her drug use cherry.

“Cause I want to.”

“But why?”

“Why do you do it?”

“It's fun.” Her thighs were pressed together so tight.

“Then if it's so fun I want to try it.”

“You just met me.”

“And already I trust you.”

He lifted an eyebrow and she continued her campaign.

“And my friend, Lisa is always calling me boring but I went out with a stranger and tried something new so now I can go back and tell her to eat a dick and she can't call me a tight ass anymore.”

“If she's with Majid I'm sure Lisa’s doing harder shit then what I'd give you.”

“Well, I'm invested now so I'm gonna have to do it with or without you and if you're the nice guy I think you are, you'd want me to be under your supervision.” She poked out her bottom lip, “Please?”

He got up sighing, “What do you want to try?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

He pulled open his filing cabinet and waved her over. When she reached him she was met with little baggies and vials of powders and pills and shit. The furthest thing from her mind when she asked to try something. She slammed it shut and tried not to scream.

Jordan looked confused, as if this was normal,“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?,”She was wide-eyed and frantic, “That’s not weed! That’s what’s wrong.”

“Who said anything about weed?”

“IT WAS IMPLIED!”

“WHEN?”

“I DON’T KNOW, I just-I didn’t expect...whatever that was.”

He pulled the cabinet back open, “You still want to try something?”

She didn’t want to look like a tight ass and if Jordan told Majid and he told Lisa that’s exactly how she’d be seen.

“Something easy. I’d like to be coherent.”

He dug around and pulled out a tiny bag. He moved over to his desk and dumped out it’s powdery contents and sorted it into lines. Beyoncé stood over her shoulder and honestly, she felt a little conflicted on whether or not it was sexy how he knew precisely what he was doing.

“What is it anyway?”

“You know what ecstasy is?”

She rolled her eyes. Earlier miniscule heart attack forgotten. “I know what it is,” she’d read about it in an anti-drug handout pamphlet, “why's it all crushed up, though?”

“Works faster.” He pushed a short straw looking tube up his nose and snorted up the line like it was nothing and then handed it to her and earnestly expected her to take it and do what he did.

He sniffed hard, his nose was leaking, pouring almost,“What's wrong?”

“I don't like things up my nose.”

“You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to?”

“I want to.”

He reached behind himself, grabbing her hand and pulling her to stand next to him.

“Wanna put it in your mouth?”

“Huh?”

“You don't want it up your nose, you can rub it on your gums.”

She looked him over. He was rubbing at his nose, his pupils blown, groans escaping from his lips every so often and he kept bouncing his leg up and down. It was an erotic picture that Beyoncé was taking care to preserve in her memory. She gave herself a limit then, as long as she didn't sleep with him it'd be okay. No insertion allowed. This would be helpful. Now she didn't have to stress herself out over what was and wasn't cheating. She was gonna literally straddle the lines of it.

“You mind if I sit on your lap?”

He eyed her, somewhat surprised, leg still bouncing, a smile forming on his face, “Go ahead.”

She swung a leg over his and lowered herself onto his thigh and tried to refocus on what was important here.

“What do I do now?”

“Put your finger in it.”

Now she was just being desperate, trying to milk the situation until she reached the cheating line.

“Could you do it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He swiped at the desk, coating two of his fingertips and using his other hand to rub circles into the back of her neck.

“You have to be relaxed.”

“I am.”

“You say that but you’re really tense.”

“That's me relaxed.”

“Turn around. Face me.”

She followed his instructions and to suppress the urge to rub against his leg, she kicked her own legs over the arms of his chair. Somehow she figured straddling him would be better. It wasn't and she was probably visibly wet and he probably noticed because he was definitely looking. First, between her legs, then at her face and then back between her legs.

If that's what it looked like when she stared at him he should've been flattered.

He coughed, “Fuck, sorry. Open your mouth.”

He slid his fingers into her mouth, smoothing it onto her gums and her tongue. It was gross 

He laughed and it felt different sitting over him when he squirmed around.

“Tastes like shit huh?”

“It's bitter.”

“That's why you don't let pills dissolve in your mouth.”

“Good to know”

He pushed his chair forward until her back touched the edge of his desk.

He began nosing at her neck, “You're so pretty.”

“Thank you.” Her skin felt hot. She ran her tongue over her teeth, attempting to get rid of the taste, it only made it worse and it was starting to tingle and burn the slightest bit.

“Sit up there.”

She looked over her shoulder and noticed all the residual powder on the surface. “I can’t, I have to take this dress back.”

He looked puzzled, like he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just buy it before shrugging. “I don't care about my coat.”

She slouched it down her shoulders a little more so that her dress was fully covered and hopped up. It was cold and hard, she missed Jordan's lap. He was warm but now looking at him trying to adjust himself, he was not that soft.

“You stare a lot.”

She blinked, annoyed that this fuck ass coat was in the way of her feeling it, now she had to die curious. “Sorry.”

“Didn't say it was a bad thing.”

Her mouth felt warm and the feeling started to trickle down to her throat. Jordan stuck his middle finger in the small bag and then into his mouth and went back in adding his pointer.

“Wanna try again?”

She thought momentarily, she didn't feel anything but a tiny buzzing and warmth, nothing too alarming. She grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers to her mouth. Not really for whatever high she was supposed to get but because she felt more daring and sensual and grown. She could anticipate the taste this time, so she made a show of gently sucking it off and licking at his fingers. The way he looked at her made her feel sexy and empowered; that only increased when a barely audible groan slipped from him and his other hand trailed up her knee to grip at her thigh.

She opened her mouth and he spent a few seconds running his fingers over her tongue before touching her bottom lip with his thumb. They were both breathing faster. Gazing into one another's eyes, growing closer physically and emotionally speaking. She was warm all over now and both of his hands were on her hips, she reached for his shirt and pulled him into a needy yet slow kiss.

Her eyes closed and in far too vivid detail she pictured him undressing her, spreading her legs and hooking them over his shoulder, fucking her hard and desperate on that cluttered, cold assembly of wood. Then she realized that wouldn't be enough, she decided she wanted him to bend her over it, leaving her dress on and pushing into her from behind until she came, sobbing from the intensity. Her eyes opened and they were met with his blue ones, they were darker than before and sort of glassy.

His hand slid further up her thigh until he was menacingly close to her pussy. Wet and relentlessly contracting around nothing. She wished she was a little more high so she could forget the no insertion rule she'd made up. 

Her voice was weaker than before when she finally broke the kiss, pitiful almost, “Touch it, please? It's starting to hurt. I need you to touch me.”

He stood up and she took advantage, wrapping her legs around his waist and fitfully trying to grind against something but no friction could be found until he had some slither of mercy and pressed his thumb against her clit through the lace material.

She gasped and he kissed her open mouthed, touching his tongue to hers, rubbing circles that made her head fall back, breaking away from his lips again before repeating it over and over again. It was frustrating her; kissing him was half of what was getting her off and every time she got too close she'd move or clamp her thighs around his wrist until he couldn't move.

He laid her back and pushed her legs apart. Then, knelt down and ducked his head underneath her skirt, trailing his tongue over the now sopping wet underwear. Her hands were in his hair and while her legs attempted to push away, she lifted her hips in time to the heavy strokes of his tongue until she came biting down on her lip, trying to contain high pitched squeaks that simmered into throaty groans.

He stood up gasping, moaning quietly, licking at his chin and collapsed back into his chair. In no time, she was in his lap, kissing him feverishly. He pushed his coat off of her shoulders and onto the floor and touched his warm hands to her belly.

“When you come, you sound so pretty. Anyone ever told you that?”

She thought about it. No, she'd only slept with one person her whole life and he didn't say much about how she sounded.    

She told herself to ask when she got home. That reminded her of something. 

She pulled away,“I have something to tell you.”

He was busy kissing at her neck, “And you taste so good. I can't wait to-”

“Jordan.” She cut him off knowing that if he finished that sentence she was going to let him do whatever it was he couldn't wait to do.

He grunted in response.

“I have a boyfriend,” she felt bad telling a half truth, like it was worse than not telling at all, “I have a fiancé. I'm getting married.”

His expression was confused and not much else. Guilt was finding it's way to her only because she felt like she hurt him. Jordan was nice. He was a sweetheart. He didn't deserve this. He was laughing.

First a small chuckle, then he was hunched over wheezing into her shoulder.

“What's funny?”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“You make $12.83 an hour.”

“And?”

“You said it helps pay the bills, not that it pays them.”

“Maybe I'm struggling.”

“You didn't seem to interested in working for me and people that make $12.83 an hour, not counting taxes, don't live by themselves in Jersey.”

“You don't know what part I live in.”

“You can't live that far to work over here.”

“What if I have a roommate?”

“It's not a woman. Women check on each other, the only reason Lisa hasn't checked on you yet is because she's busy with Majid.”

“I don't have a phone.”

“They'd find a way or you'd find a way to check in with them.”

“You're smarter than you look.”

“Thank you.”

“So you're not mad at me?”

He took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes, smirking,“I don't care about that asshole, Beyoncé.”

“How do you know if he's an asshole?”

“He hasn't checked on you.”

“Again: no phone.”

“He didn't make sure you got a phone.”

“Maybe he just trusts me.”

“You, of course, but look at what state you're in.”

She thought back to the weird guy on the train earlier and then  _ she  _ wanted to call her fiancè an asshole.

“Okay, well, I don't wanna go too far. I still like him.”

“Like?”

“Love.” She said it to herself too.

She slid off his lap and he touched her hand.

“I want you to work for me. I meant it.”

“I don't know if that’s a good idea.”

“I can be professional.”

“Can you?”

He picked up a blank card and a pen from his desk, and started scribbling an address. “We'll do an interview here. Are you free Friday?”

Her fiancé would be working, “Yeah.”

“Six in the evening. I'll meet you there.”

She looked at the address, “Jordan this is like dumb far and who does interviews at restaurants?”

A mischievous look came and went, “I'll have to pick you up then.”

Beyoncé knew better. This was a date, “It'll be professional?”

“I'll even wear a tie.”

“Fine.”

He grinned, “But I need your address so I guess I have to drive you home.”

“You can drive me to the bus stop by my apartment.”

“Can I drive beside you to make sure you get in safe?”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

“Deal.”

At work the next day, after returning the outfits they “borrowed”, Beyoncé had to listen to Lisa's extremely detailed recount of her night with Majid and the various, various positions he put her in. She wasn't too bothered. Majid was cute, it helped pass the time and when it was all over she got to tell Lisa that her tight-ass friend actually let loose.

Only, Lisa was a better storyteller than listener, interrupting with corrections such as, “They say ‘B’ all over New York and like all over the east coast, you uncultured country bitch.” but ultimately Beyoncé finished her recap, feeling rather proud.

“How's that for boring?”

Lisa came from around the counter and slapped Beyoncé in the back of her head, “You. _Stupid_. Bitch.”

“What?”

“YOU WENT OFF WITH A STRANGER ALONE AND DID DRUGS WITH HIM?”

When she put it that way, Beyoncés did feel a little foolish. “I was being spontaneous.”

“Be safely spontaneous, girl. That is the most reckless thing I've ever heard. You're lucky, you must pray a fuckton.”

“My mother prays for me.”

Lisa put on a high pitched goofy voice, “ _ ‘My mother prays for me, my mother named me Beyoncé, I'm from Texas. _ ’ we get it, you're America's little sweetheart.”

“For someone who actually got fucked, you're like extremely grumpy today.”

The door to the store swung open and the sensor beeped, Lisa mouthed ‘hangover’ while Beyoncé went over to greet the customer.

She reached him preparing to give a really nice ‘Hello’ but stopped short. Jordan. All dressed up, hands behind his back.

“What are you doing?”

“Shopping.”

“I mean what are you doing here?”

“I needed to buy a gift.”

“Here?”

“It's a store, isn't it?”

She made up in her mind wasn't going to let him mess with her anymore,“Alright then, what are you looking for?”

“A dress.”

“What kind of dress.”

“It was black and in your size. You know what? Maybe you could help me. It seems like your taste.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You can't buy that dress for me.”

“It's not for you.”

She scoffed, “Then who is it for?”

“None of your business but it's for a lady friend and when I saw you in it, I thought it might look nice on her.”

Beyoncé did feel a little stupid. A wealthy handsome guy with that loose attitude towards cheating he had the night before, of course he had other women. Not that it mattered of course, she was happily engaged.

“Good.”

“Great, where is it?”

She took him over to the rack she swiped the dress from and handed it to him. Not caring to get one of the many unworn ones. Then he was asking if she liked anything else and she had to resist the urge to pick something ugly just because.

She found a bright pink Nina Ricci dress and rang him up, ignoring his attempts at conversation.

“Swipe your card.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, swipe your card.”

He did as he was told and she slipped the clothes into plastic garment bags and handed them over to him, realizing she seemed bitter, “Lucky girl.”

He handed them back to her, “Lucky you.”

She wanted to argue for the sake of her pride but she was too relieved that he did mean her and not some other girl to get on her soap box and proclaim that she wasn't a charity case.

“You don't have to.”

“I want you to have them.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

A corner of his mouth lifted, “Fiancè.”

“Fiancé.”

“It's not a ‘steal you from your guy’ gift, it's a ‘steal you from Barney’s’ gift.”

“That's very nice but-”

“And I want you to take this," He slid a few folded bills over the counter,“It's for a phone so you can check on people and complain at my restaurants anytime you want.”

“Jordan," She started.

“Don't say no.”

“How am I supposed to explain this to him?”

He took her hand in his,  brushing over naked ring finger,“You helped a guy who's a really great tipper.”

  
  
  



	3. Funny Woman

There was something particularly hopeless about trying to forget someone and thinking about them more in turn and Beyoncé tried desperately to pretend she never met Jordan. She spent more time at home where her fiance was in an effort to force a stronger bond and only felt her resentment towards him grow. She picked up more shifts at work figuring she’d be so busy she wouldn’t have time to remember him and ended up exhausted, with her mind still stuck on Jordan.  
She’d stashed the two dresses he bought for her in her closet and the money he slid her was hidden in a shoebox and she had fully intended on not showing up to the “job interview” he’d offered but then she got to thinking; maybe she’d go out with him and find out they don’t actually get along that well, he’s not that cute or funny and she’d come out better for it.

That’s why, and for no other possible reason, she met this man at what had to be the most expensive place she'd ever been inside of. It made her feel lesser than everyone else inside and it was only intensified by how underdressed she was, shorts and a light jacket that covered her San Francisco tourist t-shirt that was getting too small for her. She’d never been to San Francisco, she had to tell Jordan that when he commented on it.

There was a front desk and you had to make a reservation and from the way the host looked at her she had the feeling that if Jordan didn’t have his arm around her, she wouldn’t have been allowed in. He lead them to a booth near the back and Jordan slid in right next to her.

“No.”

A waiter brought out a basket of bread and he pushed a roll into his mouth,“No what?”

“Sit on the other side.”

“I’m just sitting.”

“This isn’t a date. You have to sit on the other side or else it’s inappropriate.”

He breathed out a long laborious sigh and moved across from her and she pulled out a little notebook and pen from her bag.

“Thank you, now start interviewing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m taking notes.”

“On what?”

She flipped it open and started scribbling, “You not taking notes.”

He looked amused,“I’m the one interviewing you.”

“I don’t even know if I want this job so…”

“Okay then.”

She started writing again and talking under her breath, “Still has not started this interview, beginning to think he has a problem with time.”  
He feigned hurt, “Wow.”

She held in a laugh, “You still haven’t started.”

“Let’s get our food first.”

She flipped through the menu a few times trying to look for anything that sounded edible.

“We don’t need the main course yet, look through the appetizers first.” Her eyes narrowed, she knew he was trying to be helpful but it irked her. She knew where to look, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was most of it sounded like ass and the things she leaned towards seemed far too expensive to be an appetizer.

She slammed the menu shut and went back to her notebook, “Thinks that I don’t know what an appetizer is.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Might as well have.”

He slid his hand over hers and she slapped it away, “This is not a date.”

He brought it to his chest rubbing at his knuckles as if it hurt,“I know, I’m apologizing.”

“Apologize from over there.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

She went back to writing, “Lackluster apologies,” she turned to a new page and spoke in a surprised tone, “Knows when to admit he’s wrong.”

“Is that a pros list?”

She turned back to the other page mumbling,“Nosy.”

He was choosing to ignore her now, “How about we try the lobster puffs? You think you'd like those?”

“What, I'm too poor to have tried lobster now?”

He sighed, “I didn't say that.”

Her frown dissolved into giggles, “I'm messing with you. I really haven't had lobster before. I think they're ugly.”

His shoulders slouched and it made her realize how high strung he’d been the whole time. He seemed nervous and uncomfortable because he was nervous. Arranging the already perfectly set table, checking his watch, monitoring her facial expressions to see if she was enjoying the outing, it was like telling a joke and waiting for someone to laugh.

It made her want to treat this the way it felt, like a date. Meeting with him for the strict purpose of research seemed like a good idea earlier and so far he'd been doing a great job of guarding herself, not letting him touch her, nitpicking. However, the reality was every time her mind drifted to the week before, the way he touched her and made her feel, the fact that she didn't even have to get undressed to feel those things, she grew warm under the skin. It was a problem, seeing as her mind drifted there often especially when sitting across from him.

She forced herself to say something remotely on topic. “You know they keep growing until they die? They get too big for their shells or exhaust themselves trying to grow a bigger one when they're old.”

That seemed to ease some of the tension on his side too. A small smile curved at his lips. “They're like sea roaches.”

Beyoncé let out an excited hum, “I say that to everybody and nobody listens!”

“They just tell me it's gross because we're eating.”

“It's an over food subject.”

“Exactly, bringing it up any other time seems stupid.”

“I wait till we get to an aquarium or a lobster tank at the grocery store then it's fair.”

“Smart girl, you wanna try this sea roach appetizer or,” He trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“Or are you a baby?”

“Not a baby, I'm grown.”

“Then I'm ordering it.”

A few of the waiters never actually moved that far away from him, they stayed about three tables away waiting for him to wave someone over and once he did about four of them raced to reach their table first.

The youngest looking one did and Jordan shook his hand like he won a prize and from the look on the guys face, he did.

Jordan mumbled something into his ear that made glance at Beyoncé and nod.

Jordan pulled away, acting as if whatever he said something to do with this appetizer, “So, we want the lobster puffs.”

She coughed,“I'm thirsty too.”

“Taken care of.”

She didn't like him choosing for her like she was a child, “I want strawberry lemonade.”

“That's no fun.”

“You drink while interviewing people?”

“It's after six, you can do whatever you want after six.”

“Yeah, about that, why are we here after six? Usually these things are in the morning.”

“You tell your boyfriend where you are?”

“I told him where I was going.”

“Does he know you're here now?”

“He’s working now.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I don't see what this has to do with a job.”

The waiter cleared his throat and Jordan apologized before telling him to get the drink she asked for.

“That was weird.”

Jordan was back to eyeing his menu. “What was?”

“The way they're treating you. They're like falling over themselves.”

“I leave good tips.”

She grinned, running the cool metal clip of her pen over her bottom lip,“So do I but they don’t do all that for me.”

“It's nice, right?”

“It's unsettling but maybe once you're used to it, it's different.”

His foot nudged hers under the table, “You should come out with me again so you can get used to it.”

She lowered her voice and leaned forward, her arms on the table,“This is not me coming out with you and this is not a date because I am getting married.” She was saying it to herself just as much as she was to him.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“The right thing to say is that you love him and don’t like me.”

“How would you know what the right thing to say is?”

“You think you’re the only girl with boyfriend I’ve ever wanted?”

“I’m not that stupid.” Only she was that stupid and for some strange reason, maybe the way he looked at her, she’d thought she was special.

He tried making conversation with her after that, she didn’t feed into it. Giving vague one-worded responses accented with sighs until their waiter returned lobster puffs on a platter and Jordan was sitting straight up as if it was his first time trying this.

“I think you're gonna like it.”

She was digging her heels into this semi tantrum and she couldn't understand exactly why. Jordan brings up other women, she suddenly can't function like an adult. Her skin was burning hot, corners of her eyes prickling, not with tears but jealousy. She figured she wanted him to herself but then that didn't seem fair considering she was the one destined to walk down the aisle.

“Maybe so.”

He picked one up and popped it into his mouth and looked at her pointedly. She inspected it first, trying to anticipate the taste before shoving it onto her tongue, letting the flakey breading dissolve and working the insides between her teeth until it was nearly tasteless.

She didn't hate it, contrary to the screwed up expression on her face, but she really wanted to. “It's sweet.”

“Is that bad?”

“I don't mind it.”

He picked up another puff, dipping it in butter and holding it halfway across the table.

She was still mid tantrum and she didn't want him to think her stance had softened, whatever her stance was, she would figure that out later she just knew she was angry and it didn't matter if she had a right to be or not.

He waved the puff around and butter dripped onto the table from his fingers and it annoyed her that there wasn't a way to angrily lick someone's fingers clean.

“I can feed myself.”

“I know you can.”

“I'm not a baby.”

“Then how come you're acting like one?”

“I’M-”she stopped herself from stomping her foot, “-I'm not acting like a baby.”

“Then try it.”

She leaned over and bit off the tiniest piece of puff pastry she could.

“Now leave me alone.”

He swallowed a grin,“Beyoncé.”

“Oh my God, fine.” She stuck out her tongue and he placed it gently in her mouth, fingertips brushing against her lips. Angry people don't suck fingers. They just painfully want to.

This time she ate it normally and to her discontent, she enjoyed it.

Jordan was smoother than she anticipated, in the time it took her to swallow he'd moved his hand to hold hers and she allowed it because at the moment she didn't have the will to feign a stronger moral compass.

He rested his chin in the palm of his other hand. “You like it don't you?”

“It's not that bad.” He laughed and it was just as cute as it was the week before. She could make some sense out of her mood now. The way he looked at her, in almost constant amazement, like he was experiencing the world again but through her eyes, she didn't like the idea of him doing that with anyone else but her.

“Ready to get started?”

“I'm ready.”

He pulled a tape recorder from his coat pocket and laid it on the table.

“You actually came prepared.”

“I told you I'd take it seriously.”

He clicked it on, “Now, would you describe yourself as flexible?”

“Yeah, I thin-,” she stopped, glaring at him while he tried in vain to keep a straight face,“eat a dick.”

He was gasping out laughs, “You can't say that to me.”

“A fat one.”

“I wasn't messing with you, you have to travel on short notice and work late hours.”

She sipped on her drink,,annoyed that it wasn't loaded with sugar the way her mother made it,“I can do that.”

“Besides I know you're flexible you almost let me put your legs behind your head.”

“Okay.”

“I really value that in women.”

“Okay.”

“And you're at least top ten and I didn't even push that hard so that's at least an eight.”

“Fuck you Jordan.” She grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth, hitting her knee on the way, she felt blindly angry, she couldn't pinpoint exactly what he said that had pushed her buttons.

He came after her, running around another table to stop in front, “I'm sorry, don't leave.”

She broke her stride but didn't award him the gift of hearing her speak. She used her resting angry expression to stare at him without it seeming like she liked him or anything. He had freckles, she missed those the last time.

“I know you think I'm just wasting your time and...I am, actually, you don't need to do all of this for the job, you're smart and you'd just answer phones and help me out.”

She pushed past him, wondering how long it was going to take for him to remember he drove.

He backed up so that he was in front again, “I thought it'd be fun to see you again and I figured by now it'd be alright to joke about what happened.”

“It's been less than a week.”

“I thought we both moved fast.”

“That's not funny.”

“I'm really sorry, he started pouting and she could've forgiven him then but he didn't apologize for what was still picking at her nerves. At least an eight. Top 10. She was eight. Who the fuck was number one?

He nudged her, “Take the job, we don't have to talk about what happened, I'll forget it, say yes.”

She. Was. Eight. “No, you crackhead!”

His mouth dropped open slightly, “Since when am I a crackhead?”

She folded her arms,“You know exactly why you're a crackhead.”

“It was coke and I didn't give you any.”

“Just because it's powder and you snort it doesn't mean you're not a fucking crackhead, you fucking crackhead.”

People seated around where they were standing began to stare and he shushed her.

“Can we not have this argument right here? Let’s go back and sit down. You left your book and your pen and it looked like a really good pen.”

She let out a theatrical breath, “It's a great pen. It’s retractable and the ink comes out smooth every time.”

“That’s great. Can you come sit down with me?”

“Fine, I guess.” She was kind of pleased to be getting her way, even though she wasn't quite clear on what her way was. Principal of the thing.

It was awkward back in their seats, he wasn't talking out of fear of offending her and she pretended to go over the menu again just to avoid being the first person to speak.

“Order something.”

“You're paying for the whole thing?”

He looked offended,“No we're gonna split the bill- of course I'm paying.”

He said it like it was a ridiculous question,“Jesus, it's polite to ask.”

“You didn't ask in a polite way.”

“It's not like you've exactly been Mr. Manners tonight.”

He swirled ice around in his glass with his straw, “Can I blame it on nerves?”

“I'm the one that should be nervous you're supposed to be interviewing me.”

“You're pretty intimidating.”

“How?”

“Look at you.”

“You've never been around a pretty girl before?”

He smirked, all charm yet still sincere,“Doesn't feel like it.”

Beyoncé wanted to die right then because she'd visibly swooned and he was irritatingly attentive and didn't have the good grace to pretend he missed it.

He smirked “You like that? Is that how I get back on your good side?”

She was blushing openly seeing no point in hiding it,“With compliments?”

“Genuine compliments.”

“I just like it when you're sweet to me.”

“Luckily, I'm a sweet guy.”

She couldn’t figure out a safe response to that instead they decided to share a steak and Jordan pushed her to get a lobster tail for the fun of it.

Halfway through stuffing her face with the side of potatoes she got tired of not hearing his voice, “You should actually try and get to know me because you could be inviting a real live murderer into your workplace.”

“What if we go question for question again?”

“Is this how you work?”

“See? You’re already doing it we work so well together.”

“Just ask the damn question.”

“You told me you’re from Houston, right? And I might be wrong but it doesn’t sound like you’ve been out long so my question is why’d you come up here?”

It was surprising to her that he remembered even though her accent made it hard to forget. “You say “got out” like it’s prison. I loved it, it’s just my boyfriend got this really nice job offer and it would’ve been stupid for him to turn it down but he didn’t want to leave me and I guess he didn’t think we’d last long distance so he proposed and we’re starting our life together.” A bitter edge was evident in her tone.

“Doesn’t sound like you wanted to leave.”

Her mouth pulled into a forlorn shrug, “I miss my family. It’s just my mom and sister now and it almost feels like I left them.”

“I take it you all were close.”

“Extremely close. I talk about my mother all the fucking time everyone hates it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with loving your mother.”

“Thank you! What about your family?”

“What about ‘em?”

“Are they nice? Do you like them?”

“They are certainly people that I’m related to.”

“Meaning?” He was holding back details and it was driving her nuts.

“We don’t talk that much about anything but business and I try not to go around them for my own sake.”

“You have any siblings?”

“Two sisters and I’m in the middle.”

“I’m the oldest.”

“How old is she?”

“18. What about yours?”

“I honestly don’t know and it’s not for lack of trying.”

Beyoncé’s mouth dropped open like that was the most scandalous thing she’d ever heard,“How do you not know?”

“They won’t tell me because my mom taught them women shouldn’t tell their age and I tried to do the math but I don’t remember how old I was when my sister was born and my dad, in the formative years after her birth was too high on coke to give me a good answer.”

“So father like son?”

He grunted, “No.”

“Oh. Touchy subject.”

“You could say that.”

“Would it help if I told you I don’t like my father that much either?”

“A little bit. What did he do?”

“Touchy subject.”

“Fair enough.” The conversation had an opportunity to get awkward and fizzle out but she didn’t want that to happen so she pushed forward.

“So what are your sisters like?”

“They were pretty decent but then my parents split up and they’re not that decent anymore.”

“You miss them being decent?”

“Sometimes.”

“So did your parents splitting up make you less decent?”

“It didn’t bother me because I was the only one that was aware they weren’t that fucking great together. My stepdad’s pretty cool though.”

“Lucky! I want a stepdad so bad.”

He grinned,“We kind of lucked into ours.”

“I can’t get her to date, her standards are too high and I keep trying to tell her that she’s prime real estate right now both her kids are grown she’s still fine she could be raking it in.”

“How long has it been?”

“I was fifteen so six years now.”

“Oh that’s way too slow. My mom was way faster than that. It took her months.”

She giggled, “Does your stepdad have friends?”

“He has a brother. I’ll have his people call your mom’s people.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s nothing for a romantic like me, Bey.”

Beyoncé groaned, “You think you’re being so smooth.”

“That’s not even the worst line I could use.”

“I’m begging you not to use your worst.”

He slid over in the booth until he was next to her again and this time she didn’t make him move.

“Beyoncé,” he started, pushing his shoulder against hers, “If I could rearrange the alphabet-”

“Shut UP.”

He made like he was thinking of something, “For the low price of one kiss you could shut me up for the whole night.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m desperate.”

“And extremely determined.”

“Am I getting this kiss or what?”

She stabbed at a string bean with her fork,“Maybe later.”

“It’s like 8:00 now what do you mean by later?”

“I mean maybe later.”

"A goodnight kiss?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You give interesting answers and I want to be sure.”

“Okay then, maybe.”

He sounded a little stressed and it made her laugh, “What does that mean?”


	4. It meant yes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *screaming* cheek clapping occurred

Jordan’s house was too big for one person. It was too big for two people, or an extended family and it bothered Beyoncé that he lived on his own with only a few housekeepers that came in once in a while to keep him company. He didn’t even have live-in help, he said he liked his personal space, although she doubted that because he seemed kind of lonely. It wasn’t decorated particularly special either. It was straight out of an interior design magazine, rooms bled into one another without much distinction. She thought to herself that she could offer to help him redecorate before reminding herself that wasn’t why she was here because there was a reason. She was going to sleep with him, feel nothing and take her ass home.

Ideally, she would’ve walked out of their interview and realized he was kind of an asshole and been able to put this whole situation behind her but as luck would have it, Jordan was a pretty good guy as far as guys went. He was exciting and funny and made her feel listened to. He didn’t even make fun of her ears and she had pushed her hair behind them in an effort to bait him into it.

Even now, showing her around his place, he was obviously trying hard to impress her, nervously watching her facial expressions to get a feel for her opinion. She was running out of ways to call each room nice and he was running out of ways to make them seem interesting. There were a few odd things but nothing unexplainable.

“You have a phone in your bathroom?”

“All of them do. I thought it’d look cool.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

On to the next room.

He was in a third semi-empty sitting room, trying to talk about art when she got impatient.

“ Can I see your room?”

“Huh?”

“Where you sleep.”

He was blushing a little and she thought it was funny, he’d flirted with her mercilessly back at the restaurant and on the drive to his house and he chose now to be a shrinking violet.

“Right. I’ll take you upstairs.” He waited around for a few moments just nodding before he actually led her up the staircase and down the hall.

His bed looked unnaturally comfortable and it was tall enough to the point where it was kind of a struggle to hop onto it but that was perfect. It was a subtle way to get him to touch her.

“Can you lift me?”

He hesitated and she almost kissed her teeth. “It’s too tall to jump up on.”

She turned towards him and he tugged down the zipper of her jacket. “We should listen to music.”

“What do you have?”

He trekked across the room, and she kicked her sneakers off waiting for him.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Something slow.”

He slipped a cd into the large player and while it whirred around beginning to play, he came over and wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her onto the bed,“You like Tony! Toni! Toné!?”

“I lost my virginity to ‘Anniversary’.”

She felt him drop his head to her shoulder to suppress a laugh while climbing up with her, “Was it on purpose?”

“It was really our 10 month anniversary.”

“Beyoncé, that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

She laid on her side propping her head up with her hand, “It was really sweet at the time.”

“Whose idea was that?”

“Boyfriend.”

“Same guy?”

“Yep.”

“So he’s special to you then?”

Sometimes she found herself thinking they were only together out of convenience but that wasn’t something that someone in her position at the moment could confess to.

“Yeah.”

He ran his index finger over her bottom lip and cupped the side of her face. They were quiet for so long that when he spoke next there was a completely different song playing on the speaker.

“Then I must be an exceptional guy.”

“You think so?”

 “It’s up to you to say.”

“You’re not like anyone I know.”

“Thank you.”

“Nobody said I meant that as a compliment with your weird ass.”

He pulled at her hips until she fell backwards due to lack of balance and teased at the ticklish spots on her sides until she was wheezing in tears.

“You’re mean as shit, Beyoncé.”

She struggled to catch her breath, “I’m funny.”

“But at what cost?”

She laughed heartily the way a supervillain might,“Your feelings mean dick to me.”

He ducked his head down to touch his lips to hers and it burned Beyoncé a tiny bit that it felt a little better than the first time. It was leisurely and pleasant. His hands found hers and she pushed her fingers between his. They breathed in synch, their eyes closed letting the shared feeling of desire guide them along. She felt like she was more eager than he was, every bump of the nose or grazing of teeth was mostly her fault for getting too excited and momentarily interrupting the rhythm of things.

He pulled away, wincing at the sting of her catching his bottom lip between her teeth.

Her hips lifted off the mattress, frustratedly rubbing against his leg. She wanted for this to be rushed and uncaring and instead of ripping her clothes off and grabbing at her, he was smooching at the chub of her belly that poked out from under her shirt and spilled over the top of her shorts. It tickled but that did nothing to stop her eyes from rolling and her mouth from settling into a frown.

He was kneading his thumbs into both sides of her waist and making his way up to her neck at the same turtle's pace when she pushed him away.

“What's wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You're being all...romantic and weird. Cut that shit out.”

He blinked slowly,“I'm not getting how this is weird.”

“You weren't like that the other time in your office.”

“I was pretty fucked up Beyoncé.”

“It fit the moment, this doesn't.”

“What moment is this?”

“I just want to see what it feels like with someone else.” It wasn't as reasonable and harmless when she said it outloud but she figured she could apologize later if he even cared.

He nodded and though Beyoncé couldn't exactly say he was upset the way he touched her after that was noticeably less tender. He was hurrying along in undressing her and not in an eager way, it was more like he was rushing to get this over with. It aligned with her goals but she was hoping that if things moved more urgently, she wouldn't have time to think about her feelings, yet here she was thinking about her feelings.

She decided that at some point she was going to break the expanding tension in the room by making conversation. He pulled her up to lift her shirt over her head and while he circled a tongue over her nipple she noticed a painting of the city's skyline across the room placed so that you could view it comfortably in bed.

“Where's that painting from?”

He pulled away to look where she was, a soft sucking noise coming from his mouth and a chill hitting her where his mouth was.

He gave her a small smile, “My friend Helen gave it to me.” He took off his own shirt then he was back with her nipple in his mouth.

“Ooh, who's Helen?”

He pulled up, the breeze hit her again,“It's nothing like that it was for my birthday.” He was licking at it now and she was playing with the thin but heavy gold chain around his neck.

“When's your birthday?”

Mouth off. Freezy nip. “September 8th.” Back to business.

“That's four days after mine.”

He made a humming noise of acknowledgment.

“That's my favorite number, it's lucky.”

He sat up and laid her down on her back. “You talk a lot.”

“That's SO mean. Apologize.”

“And when you laugh you sound like a little duckling.”

She was quack-laughing right as he spoke,“Are you done?”

“You have a cute belly button.”

She thought that too but now wasn't the time to brag about the physical attractiveness of that particular body part. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He got her out of her panties, the old lady ones she wore because they'd eliminate the chance of her sleeping with him out of embarrassment. The ones she'd forgotten she was wearing until Jordan was dangling them off of his finger. “These are cute.”

“Shut up.”

“No I like ‘em.”

“Shut up, please.”

“I especially like the little wild west design. It's very artistic.”

“Okay, let's not talk about this anymore.”

“You think I'm joking.” He ran his fingers up the undersides of her thighs and calves before kissing, open mouthed, at her stomach until he reached a place that caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

Her fingers combed through his hair and he slowly teased the wetness out of her with his tongue.

Beyoncé noted that it felt weirdly familiar now that she was sober and him actually licking at her, _not_ through lace was a lot better. She could compare it to getting to the hot fudge part of the sundae, the vanilla was good but it wasn't enough.

She could hear herself gasping and the creaking noises coming from the hardwood frame that surrounded his bed because she was writhing about, digging her nails into the threading in his sheets when she came.

It was in short bursts and he brought his head up to kiss her while he used his thumb against her clit to finish her off. Her thumbs ran alongside the shell of his ears with her palms against his cheeks, their foreheads touched and when she could keep her eyes open they'd be met with his.

“You done?”

She'd been lying under him for a few minutes and since then he'd formed a habit of placing his fingers between her legs, getting them wet and then sucking on them. It was funny to watch.

He was licking his ring finger,“Done what?”

“My pussy isn't fun dip.”

He grinned,“I don't know that yet.”

“Could you do me a solid and just take one of these pillows and smother me with it really quick?”

“That was a good joke.”

“Use the heavy one and just make sure I don't have any breathing room, thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Did you get it though? It was funny because it'd make my dick the dipstick.”

She grabbed a pillow and put it over her face. “Anytime now.”

He pulled it to her chest and used it to rest his head on,“Which is funny cause they share qualities. Because it's hard and they're both good in tight spaces.”

“How do you know it's tight? It could be the grand canyon inside.”

“Doesn't matter.”

She fleetingly wondered what that meant before sitting up on her elbows, deciding she’d been waiting long enough.“You’re slow.”

He rolled his eyes,“You just want me to bust a nut upon entry?”

Beyoncé laughed so hard and abruptly it made her chest hurt, “What? You can’t fucking say it like that.”

He rolled over next to her, “Since you’re so impatient, why don’t you do the work?”

She got on all fours and moved to straddle him, “Why not?”

Her fingers traveled down the pit of his chest until she reached his belt buckle, while undoing it, she realized she never really came up with any expectations. What would Jordan look like naked? Disappointing, she hoped. There needed to be something wrong with him besides being a semi-asshole so she could get over this guy.

Now she was the one moving at glacial speeds. He clearly found it cute. “You good?”

“I’m great.” Currently, Beyoncé wanted to stab herself in the gut because he kicked off his pants and his hard on was the opposite of what she hoped for.

“You don't seem great.”

She reasoned to herself that maybe it was the fabric of his underwear. Or maybe it was because she was imagining it. An easy way to test those theories would be to touch him. It. That Thing. It was intimidating, it had personality. She moved her hand towards it and this fucking asshole, Jordan, made it move so he could see her jump.

She smacked him in the arm,“That’s not FUNNY!”

“You act like you’ve never seen a dick before.”

“I’ve seen one dick my whole life.”

He sounded confused,“You don’t watch porn?”

“Is Playboy porn?”

“You read Playboy?”

“Who reads Playboy? I look at the pictures like a normal person.”

“I read it.” Of course he did. “The articles are interesting.” He laid back down, tucking his hands underneath his head, patiently waiting for her to make the next move.

“Right,” She inhaled and took notice that she needed a breather to assess this situation and outside opinion, “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.”

She breezed past the master bathroom because she didn’t want him hearing her conversation and before he could ask why she was halfway down the hall yelling how she didn’t want him to hear her pee.

Inside the hallway bathroom, a safe distance away, she sat on the toilet seat dialing the only number she could think of at the moment.

“What?” Lisa had obviously been sleeping.

“I need help.”

“Beyoncé? What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything yet.”

“Yet?” She heard her pull the phone away from her ear and groan before coming back, “Did you kill somebody?”

“No! Listen, I went out with Jordan.”

“Oh, so you’re about to get fucked silly and you want tips?”

That was only about a third of the reason she called. “Not exactly.”

“He’s gonna try and put it in your ass.”

“What?”

“He’s white. He’s gonna ask to put his dick up your butt.”

“Lisa, do you ever, like, filter the things you say before you say them?”

“I’m messing with you but if this little thing you two have continues, I am serious he’s gonna try it and I feel like you’d be into that, so I’d run to the library one day and like read up on it.”

There was a good two minute silence between the two of them that was brought on and broken by Lisa.

“Hello? You called me late as hell for a reason. What is it?”

“I’m being chicken shit.”

“When are you not being chicken shit?”

“I’m being extra chicken shit.”

Lisa hummed into the receiver, “Maybe you don’t wanna do it. Get your nerdy little purse and go home.”

Her voice jumped a few octaves the way it always did when she was offended,“What does my purse have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I just think it’s hilarious that you carry around a little satchel like a college student when you dropped out.”

“Should I call someone else?”

 “Bitch, I’m giving you advice. Maybe he isn’t what you want.”

“I wanna do it and we get really close to it but then I ruin the moment so I’m trying to make it go faster but he’s trying to make it special.”

“What are you doing?”

 “We’re like joking around and this is a serious thing for me.”

 “You don’t joke while you bump uglies?”

“I don’t wanna do it now.”

“So...basically it’s not what you want? Like I said?” Without seeing her, she knew Lisa was rolling her eyes.

“No! I want to do it. That’s the thing, I catch myself really wanting to do it and then I fuck it up.” This was tougher to explain than she had first thought.

“You’re guilty, that’s all.”

“Obviously.”

“You have a conscience be proud of that, stupid. You can’t do it because you love your boyfriend.”

That statement started to annoy her, there were a lot of things she’d been forgoing out of love for her boyfriend and that would’ve been perfectly okay if she knew for sure that she loved her boyfriend still. She was with him now mostly because he was what she knew and because she felt obligated, she wouldn’t break up with him because she felt obligated to stay and now she could barely laugh with someone else without feeling guilty. She was denying herself her freedom, it felt like, all out of so-called love and the only person seeing the desired outcome was him and it made her think this time; if she took one night for herself, to just experience something new with a guy she really liked, what would be so wrong with that? At this point she felt she had earned it.

“I’ll call you back.”

“Be safe, and don’t call me this late unless it’s an emergency.”

She would keep those words in mind for the next time she caught herself in a dilemma but for the time being, focused her efforts into running back into Jordan’s room.

He hadn’t moved, “How was your top secret leak?”

“Nice and private.” She climbed on top the bed, flopping onto her belly because of the height.

He watched her crawl over to the side of him and lay her head on his chest taking his hand in hers. “You good?”

“I’m good. I just thought about it and I want us to do something.” That was as eloquently as she could think to put it.

“What do you want us to do?”

“I want to do...what you want to do.”

He waited a little bit for her to go on and she didn’t feel the need apparently, “Which is?”

“It.”

He snorted, “You’re an adult.”

She looked him in the eye to prove how deeply she felt what she was saying,“I hate every single euphemism for sex.”

“Anything is better than ‘it’, Bey.”

“I haven’t heard it.”

“What about ‘knocking boots’?”

“Hate it.”

“Touching guts?”

“I pray that you made that up for my sanity.”

“Slapping skins.”

“Jordan, please.”

“Cleaning pipes.”

She grinned, “I lied to you, I like that one.”

“Then there you go. Use that instead.”

She let go of his hand, “Jordan, clean my pipes.”

“Gladly, thickness.” He got on his knees and pulled her by her legs until he was between them.

She nearly spat, “Who still says that?”

“Girls get a kick out of it.”

She was going to question who those girls were but his lips on hers curbed her curiosity. He hooked his arms under her and lifted her until she was hovering over his knees, the head of his dick pushing up into her slowly but surely.

“You ready?”

“Just do it.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“Yes, but also just do it ‘cause when you ask if I’m ready I just psych myself out and I’ll really give myself a mini panic attack over absolutely nothing. Just do it.”

He didn’t even have the tip all the way in and she was reconsidering her last statement.

“But slowly.”

He was laughing as if she didn’t almost die in his arms just then. “I thought so.”

“Your tongue is round.” She noticed it every time he laughed and felt the dire need to inform him of it. She was stalling.

“I thought everybody’s was.”

She stuck her tongue out, “Mine’s triangular I think.”

“It’s a roundish one.”

“This isn’t the time but you have really nice teeth like they’re so cute.”

“I know, it was by design.”

“What does that mean?”

“I got all my teeth replaced with cuter ones when I was 17.”

She gasped, “No way.”

“I also got butt implants the same day.”

She heard herself laughing and she realized she really did sound like a duck and that made her lose it to the point where she almost didn’t feel him push inside of her. Almost. She very much felt it but it wasn’t the mind numbing pain she’d been anticipating.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Beyoncé was kind of shocked herself, “It was pretty easy.”

He moved an arm from under her so he could squeeze her hand, “That’s my trick. I tell a killer joke.”

“Is that why all your other jokes are so bad?”

“I save my best for the right time.” He laid her back down and started her off with slow, shallow thrusts. She was thankful for that.

“Makes sense.”

She got used to him quicker than she thought she would, spreading her legs wider to accommodate him and using her lower leg to push him in deeper when she thought he was being to genial and sweet. Not that she disliked those things, they made her want to be a little stronger for him. He was digging his fingers into the flesh of her hips but she moved them to meet his on her own and that was a strange feeling only because she did it out of her own need for pleasure, not because she felt like she needed to. He would kiss her underneath her chin and on the ears just to be funny and she was deciding that she liked fucking Jordan, she liked the feeling of their stomachs touching, the way he’d look away if she put his finger in her mouth or bit her lip. When she came she felt oddly proud of herself.

He sounded proud of her too, “You did it.”

Yeah. She did do it.

“You did good, Bey.”

She knew that, she put a lot of effort in. “Really?”

“Yeah, and since you were so good at that I know something else you’d be good at.”

… “Okay.”

He flipped her over and pulled her up till she was on all fours and grabbed at her ass. Lisa’s word echoed in her mind. He was gonna try and put it in her butt. How do you object to that? She didn’t even know if she was into it yet. He pushed at her head gently so that it was in a pillow and she knew she was going to have to make her decision right now and the part of her that was screaming because she would need at least three business days to study up on the subject of anal sex was winning.

She cleared her throat but her voice still cracked, “Hey, Jordan?”

“Yeah?”

She heard him spitting and thought, “Weird.” She felt it land precisely in her asshole and didn’t know what to think.

“What the fuck?”

“Huh?”

“You spit in my asshole.”

“Yeah, so?”

He couldn’t spit in someone’s butt and then try to make them feel like they were the crazy one in this circumstance but the longer he looked at her like she was the crazy one the more she started to feel like it.

“Nothing.”

She heard him grunt and she kept replaying the sound of him spitting in her mind. D’angelo’s voice flowing from the speakers, the fact that it was an exceptional amount of saliva and in hindsight she could hear him holding it in his mouth when he flipped her over in the first place. If only she had known she could’ve stopped it.

He ducked his head down to lick at her and she couldn’t process why it was so normal to him. He guided himself back into her pussy and she wondered why the fuck he would spit in her butthole in the first place until that faded into the realization that he was being less gentle this time  around and the only thing she could really give attention to was that.

He reached down and yanked her head up by her hair, the sound of his skin meeting hers filling the room along with her squeaking that jumped up a decibel level every so often.

He pulled both of her arms behind her back with one hand and lifted her until her head was in his shoulder. The easy going atmosphere of the first time around had evaporated and, this, she assumed she’d be feeling for a few days after. When her eyes weren’t screwed shut she could see beads of sweat rolling down his face and she knew she had to be sweating just as much if not worse.

He let go of her arms and she collapsed back into the pillow without hesitation. Jordan didn’t give her any breaks, putting most of his weight on her, gripping the edge of the mattress, kissing nipping at the skin on her shoulder. The frame of the bed shifted into the wall with every move he made, Beyoncé was near tears and his shaky groans in her ears pushed her closer to the edge.

“Sweet thing, how’s it hanging?”

 It was a weird thing to ask considering she had one foot in the grave but she mustered up enough energy to nod pitifully and hope he got the gist of what that meant.

 He picked up the pace just to be mean, “I want to hear you say it.”

She wanted to slap him, instead she just responded louder than she had intended, “Fuck, I’m great.”

He chuckled,“That’s what I like to hear.”

His grasp on the mattress tightened and he was losing his rhythm. Beyoncé hit her breaking point, trying to keep quiet but only managing to hurt her throat, her back stiffened and she pushed back hard enough to make him pull out and watch her come and if she was in her right mind to do so, she would’ve tried to make it look a little more attractive to the eyes.

She rolled onto her back and he sat next to her, breathing heavy, and she knew he had done most of the work here but if anyone was supposed to be tired it should’ve been her.

He caught her staring and winked. She sat up to kiss him before tucking into his side and wrapping a hand around the width of him, still wet and oozing from the tip because he hadn’t yet found his release but hell if he wasn’t close. He pushed damp strands of hair from her forehead and traced his thumb along her bottom lip while she lazily stroked him.

“Did you like it with someone else?” His voice was softer the closer he got.

“I did, you made it special for me when you didn’t have to.”

“That was nothing.”

“It was a little bit of something.” He was gasping, raising his hips off the bed.

“I was trying to butter you up so you’d show up on Monday.”

“I’m still thinking about it,” She teased.

“That’s really cute.”

“Is it?”

“You’re very cute,” He kissed her, exhaling through his nose and coming apart in her hands, “I think I have to keep you around.”

She didn’t want to think about what she’d go home to or why it’d be a bad idea for her to stay around, she wanted to stay the way she was, wrapped up in him, “I think you should, for your own health.”


End file.
